


old arrangements

by sarcasticfishes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1761329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticfishes/pseuds/sarcasticfishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Man, I’m just looking forward to my painkillers, pajamas, and my bed,” Dylan groaned, sending Tyler a side-long smirk.</p><p> “You don’t wanna hang out for a little while more?” Tyler asked, a little wary. The last year or so had lent very little time for them to spend together. Today had been great, and he didn’t want to end that just yet.</p><p>“I didn’t say <i>that.</i>”</p>
            </blockquote>





	old arrangements

**Author's Note:**

> This is so unbeta'd it's not funny. Any mistakes are entirely my own! Sorry D:
> 
> AlphaCon seemed pretty fun, didn't it?

The minute the doors of the elevator shut, Dylan slumped.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed, the vowel drawing out into one long groan, as he reached for his knee. Tyler grimaced, setting a hand on Dylan’s shoulder and squeezing gently. Dylan was solid, warm and unwavering under his grip as he always was. A steadfast presence in the now.

“How are you still standing?” he asked, and Dylan snorted out a laugh at the question with multiple meanings and answers.

“Man, I’m just looking forward to my painkillers, pajamas, and my bed,” he groaned, straightening up, and sending Tyler a side-long smirk.

“You don’t wanna hang out for a little while more?” Tyler asked, a little wary. The last year or so had lent very little time for them to hang out together. Very few scenes throughout the filming of 3b, only slightly more in season 4, and other projects interspersed between. And that kind of- it really _got_ to Tyler. Because what he and Dylan had was all about them playing off each other, banter and giggles and energy and snark-with-love and- just _them_. They were in top form when they were together, they brought out the best in each other.

Today had been great, and Tyler didn’t want to end that just yet.

“I didn’t say that,” Dylan said, lips ticking up at the corners, eyes lowered. It was the kind of look that Tyler had seen dubbed as the ‘murderous come-hither look’ which had become an increasingly regular expression that Dylan liked to wear. He knew how to play cocky when he wanted a reaction, even when underneath he was just a big old kitten.

Despite knowing this Tyler still felt himself blushing and Dylan, having gotten the reaction he’d obviously been looking for, grinned broadly as he slumped back against the elevator wall again. The doors opened on Dylan’s floor.

“Go change and then come down to me. Just give me ten minutes at least,” he said, as he exited the box, walking backwards, smiling until the doors pinged shut.

Tyler let out the breath he’d been holding and wondered when Dylan had started to leave him feeling so open with just a few meaningless words.

He got to his room, contemplated a shower but decided that no, it was still hot from the day and he’d probably just sweat through the night and need another one in the morning. So he pulled on a soft, worn t-shirt and sweatpants, and set off barefoot towards Dylan’s room and hoped he didn’t meet any fans along the way.

Knocking on the hotel room door, Tyler softly called “it’s me,” through the wood before it swung open heavily, Dylan on the other side looking like he had already made himself right at home – pants discarded, fitted Henley swapped for a baggy wide-necked tee and boxer-briefs. Yeah, that caught Tyler’s attention a little more than he liked to admit.

See, it wasn’t easy seeing others notice the way he looked at Dylan, the way he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t any easier seeing Dylan look right back at him that way, especially when he’d been trying to tone it down.

He’d tried to be good. It wasn’t going well. Not with Dylan’s collarbone peeking out from the neck of that shirt, not with the broad, round curves of his shoulders stretching out beneath the material.

“I just took an anti-inflammatory and my painkillers. I’m getting into bed and you can’t stop me,” Dylan said.

Tyler looked down at his pajamas, lifted an eyebrow.

“Does it look like I’ll try?”

“Nah,” Dylan pulled him into the room, shut the door behind him, “Because you’re the best.”

Tyler made a noise of agreement that was more teasing than anything, threw himself down across the bottom of Dylan’s bed, while Dylan crawled in under the covers.

“How’s the knee?” Tyler asked, watching Dylan’s slightly stilted movements now that he was out of the public eye. Earlier, Tyler had been amazed at the way Dylan could hold the sign of any pain at bay, not wanting to disappoint any fans. Here, with the two of them, the injury was obvious.

“Stiff,” Dylan said, wrinkling his nose as he curled down, and Tyler tried not to think too much about how adorable that was, “Seriously, what are you doing down there? Come up here with me. What are you doing.”

Tyler huffed a little bit, always amused by Dylan’s more direct approach. The guy could go from shy and humble, to loud and honest in zero seconds flat. It was something real about him, something Tyler loved more than anything. He crawled up the bed, flopping down next to Dylan on his side, tucking his feet under the edge of the duvet.

“You were really amazing today. I know everyone appreciates what you did today, despite being hurt. You didn’t have to come. They would have understood.”

Dylan scoffed, quietly, “I know they would have. Doesn’t mean I didn’t have to come. There is so much I owe to our fans, and not only that but- it’s you, Hoech. We rarely get cons together, and they’re always so good when it’s us. No way I was missing that.”

Tyler nodded, his face softening as he watched Dylan nuzzle his cheek into the pillow.

“Hey, hey Hoech. Can you get under the covers?”

“Sure. Of course.”

“Will you stay?”

“Don’t even have to ask,” Tyler muttered, and no sooner had he lay down that Dylan had scooted over into his space, tucking his face into Tyler’s shoulder, exhaling a heady sigh.

“I’m so tired, I just wanna— I miss working with you,” Dylan flailed out his arm to hit the bedside lamp, sending the room into darkness, just the barest sliver of light from the curtains touching them, “Miss you. You know?”

Tyler felt Dylan’s lips touch his neck, a soft brush and first and then firmer, and yeah, he knew. There was a slight groan of the mattress as Tyler felt Dylan shift towards him, heard his wince as he tried to climb up, straddle Tyler’s hips.

“Whoa, hold on, don’t do that-” Tyler said, and Dylan drew back sharply, making a hurt noise in his throat.

“What-?”

“No I mean,” Tyler huffed out a laugh, leaning up to nose at Dylan’s jaw, trying to get him to relax again, “Don’t climb over me like that. You’ll hurt yourself even more.”

All Tyler had to do was give a little nudge, pushing Dylan’s hip over and turning him down onto his back beneath him.

“You’ll hurt your back,” Dylan said quietly, and Tyler rolled his eyes.

“Be quiet, okay?” he murmured, “It’s fine. Tell me you brought lube.”

“Yeah,” Dylan giggled sudddenly, covering his face in embarrassment, even though Tyler could hardly see him anyway with the lights out. “It’s in my suitcase at the end of the bed.”

Tyler ducked down to look for the bottle he knew Dylan usually favoured (and the fact that he knew that-  that was a realisation he wasn’t ready for), climbing back up to Dylan and shoving it underneath the pillow next to their heads.

Dylan was already pawing at him, tugging at Tyler’s shirt, rubbing his chest softly with such big hands. This – them – was such a familiar thing that it made Tyler _ache_. Because once it was over they’d have to walk out there tomorrow and do their panel together like nothing had happened. Like they always did.

But then Dylan was twisting beneath him and pulling off his own t-shirt, prompting Tyler to mimic the action. He could feel Dylan’s hands everywhere on him – his chest, his side, his back, pulling them flush chest to chest. Tyler groaned and covered Dylan’s mouth with his, Dylan pushing himself up with his good leg to roll their hips together.

Even with two layers of material between their cocks there was no denying that Dylan was already hard, already panting a little, his kisses turning frantic and deep, wet and messy as he tugged on Tyler’s lip with his teeth, scrabbling to push down his pajama pants.

“Hey, _hey_ , slow down, D. Gonna hurt yourself.”

“Screw you,” Dylan chuckled and then, hiccupping slightly, voice suddenly breathless, said, “No, wait, screw me.”

“Oh my god,” Tyler dropped his face into the curve of Dylan’s neck as Dylan finally got a hand around his cock, pants pushed down to his knees and hips trapped between Dylan’s thighs.

“Yeah, fuck, you’re so. Feel so good. C’mon,” he muttered, and Tyler reached out for the bottle of lube again, flicking it open with a _schlick_ and dribbling some over Dylan’s hand, “ _Yeah,_ ” Dylan said, a little hoarsely, like he was finding it hard to catch his breath, but Tyler was lost in the clutch of his hand, warm and tight, stroking him so good. It was when Dylan started to whine his name – not Hoechlin, not Hoech, but _Tyler,_ _god, c’mon Ty please_ – that he finally started to get with the programme.

Dylan almost cried out with relief as Tyler got his briefs down, careful not to jostle his bad knee and so tender that Dylan looked almost offended by it.

“What do you want,” Tyler asked, a little breathless himself too. He was easy to satisfy, and his obsession with Dylan’s hands went a long way, but Dylan was a little pickier. Once he got something into his head, he strived for it, and Tyler knew that. So he always asked first – always wanted to make it good.

“Mmm, I’m not gonna last, okay? I want-” Dylan nipped at Tyler’s lip again, humming, “Want your fingers. Inside me. Is that-?”

“Yeah, of course, yeah.”

Tyler got his hands around Dylan’s hips, dragging him in closer and lifting him just slightly, and Dylan just keened and twisted his hand a little tighter around Tyler’s cock.

“Fuck, yeah _c’mon_ , need- need—fuck, _oh!_ ” Dylan’s back just arched up as Tyler’s slick finger breached him, no hesitation, just sliding in up to the first knuckle. The heat was maddening, and Tyler couldn’t help but think about how it’d feel around his cock. They had never – he didn’t think they ever _would_ (their arrangement was too delicate) – but the thought was enough for him, and he fucked a little harder into Dylan’s fist, gone a little slack.

“Good?” Tyler asked, and Dylan just nodded, exhaling a breathy moan, and Tyler couldn’t help but think about just how- how _pretty_ he looked. “Want another?”

“Please, yeah,” Dylan choked out, and if Tyler had thought he’d sounded wrecked, it was nothing compared to the low, tired timbre of Dylan’s voice now. He was rolling into Tyler’s hand as he tentatively slipped another finger in, using his good leg as leverage, his injured leg curled around Tyler’s calf.

Tyler crowded into his space for a better angle, moving Dylan’s legs in closer to his body, dropping a soft kiss against his chest, licking over his nipples as Dylan hummed in approval.

“Tyler, c’mere, I want you to-” there it was again, that use of _Tyler_ that had him bending to Dylan’s every request. Dylan let go of his cock, and Tyler hoped the noise that escaped him wasn’t _too_ disappointed. Dylan grinned, writhing down against the fingers inside him and drizzling lube over his stomach, his free hand  grabbing Tyler’s ass and pushing him down so their cocks slid together, slick between their hips.

Dylan moaned with the new friction, louder than before, hitching his leg up higher for more pull, clutching at Tyler, mouthing at his jaw, his cheek, nipping at his lips. Tyler fucked him shallowly with his fingers, then sank in deeper, searching, gently curling until he found Dylan’s sweet spot. It seemed to be the last push he needed to get off, when he groaned, deep and guttural as he came between their stomachs, fingers gripping Tyler’s neck and ribs.

Seeing Dylan’s soft mouth fall open, seeing him shudder with the aftershocks of his orgasm and feeling the tight clutch of him around his fingers was all Tyler needed, dropping his forehead against Dylan’s as he came too, rutting again him.

It was always like this. Fast, dirty, worryingly more satisfying than anything he’d ever known.

Dylan’s chest heaved as Tyler pushed himself off, kicked the covers down to their feet. They were sticking now, anyway.

“We should. Maybe we should shower,” Dylan said, voice a little cracked. “I’ve gotta be down there real early for. For the thing.”

“The panel,” Tyler nodded, still trying to make sense of his thoughts, rushing with endorphins. He felt the bed shift, felt Dylan sitting up the edge, swearing under his breath.

“Fuck, I fucking- fucked up my knee even more.”

Tyler laughed.

“I could carry you to the shower.”

“You could carry me around all day tomorrow.”

“Get fucked,” Tyler snorted, sitting up to watch Dylan hop one-legged towards the bathroom.

“Well,” Dylan said, shrugging a shoulder, and in the dark his smile looked almost malicious, “If you’re offering...”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [alphiewolf](http://alphiewolf.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, @ohnoalfie on twitter :) Come chat!


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